Marriage Candidates

Andrew's POV

Earlier that day…

Today was definitely a bad day for me. Returning to this city after five years was proving to be a huge mistake.

I was informed that my grandmother was very ill and was at the brink of death and demanded to see me. I left everything I was doing just to fly back home to realize it was all a lie.

“I don't understand, father. Do you know how many business deals I had to sacrifice just to be here? Why would you lie about Grandma's health?”

“It's all your fault, son. Your mother and I have been urging you to come back home, but you kept procrastinating and we rarely see you. This was the only thing your mom could think of to drag you back home,” my father replied nonchalantly.

I took a deep breath, trying to maintain my composure. Of course it would certainly be my mother that would come up with this idea to bring me home.

“I'm here now, father, what do you need me for? The company is doing okay, I always make sure to keep tabs on the general running of the company here and…”

“This isn't about work, Andrew. I have something more important to discuss with you,” my father said, cutting me off.

He took out a file and handed it to me. “Read it,” he ordered.

I looked at him skeptically before collecting the file from him. Opening it, I saw the picture of a lady and every single detail of her biography.

“Who is this? And why do I have detailed information about her?” I queried.

“Scan through the other page,” my father ordered. I did and saw the picture of another lady and her biography. I continued flipping and in total, I saw pictures of five different ladies and every single detailed information about them.

“I still don't understand, father,” I said, confused.

My father took a sip of his drink and cleared his throat. “The first lady is Amelia Peters, the only daughter of the minister of health while the second lady is the second daughter of senator Adams.”

As he kept introducing the ladies, I patiently waited for him to finish so that I would know exactly what he needed me to do with all this information.

“And the last lady was specifically selected by your grandparents. Actually, she's your grandparent's choice for you, but I want you to make your choice and pick one of them as your wife,” he finally announced.

“What! Wife? Did I tell you I wanted a wife?” I asked incredulously, not believing these women were my father's ‘candidates’ for a wife selection for me.

“It's high time you get a wife, son! I can't have you living in a distant country all alone with no one by your side. Even the shareholders are complaining about….”

“I don't care what other people think about my life! Father, I didn't expect this from you. If this is the primary reason you called me home, then I'm leaving,” I angrily said and stood up to leave.

“If you leave this house, I'll make sure to disinherit you immediately! You'll cease to be the heir of Walker Enterprises!” My father's angry voice boomed, causing me to halt in my steps.

I couldn't believe he would threaten me with my inheritance just because he wanted me to get married. Were all my years of hardwork and dedication toward the company all for nothing? Did it all boil down to me getting married inorder to get what rightfully belonged to me?

He tossed the file at me and coldly said, “Go through it, I demand an answer from you before the end of the day.”

I chuckled bitterly, slightly amused at the extent he would go just to get his way. My father thought he could get me to bend to his whims by disinheriting me; if only he knew the massive investments and establishments I had all over the country in my name, he would realize money was not a problem for me.

If only he knew.

“I'm sorry, father,” I said and left.

I drove to the outskirts of the city, far from home, hoping to clear my mind from this unexpected conversation with my father. I would never have thought my father would use this approach to persuade me to get married. Spotting a nice, cozy cafe while driving, I decided to stop and grab a cup of coffee.

As I sat down and checked my phone, I was bombarded with news articles speculating that I had gone bankrupt due to being disinherited by my father. How did the news suddenly spread so fast? I had just left the house barely forty-five minutes ago!

“Good morning, Sir, welcome to Ritz Breakfast Cafe. What can I get you?” a waitress greeted me.

I was in a foul mood and didn't bother to look up to see who was speaking to me. If I wanted something, I would call for their attention. There was no need for this disturbance!

She repeated herself, speaking louder this time, which only succeeded in irritating me further.

Didn't she get the memo? Are waitresses in this part of the city so dimwitted?

As I strolled through the news article, I said to the waitress, “Get me a black coffee, no sugar and cream.”

Why was my father so adamant in this marriage issue? Even though all the ladies in the picture were beautiful, they were not as beautiful as my beloved Evelyn.

Evelyn was my wife who had been in a coma for five years after a tragic accident. Despite my parents' insistence that I move on, I held onto the hope that Evelyn would wake up one day and refused to give up on her.

My coffee arrived, and I absentmindedly took a sip, only to quickly spit it out.

“What is the meaning of this?” I thundered, my voice laced with anger.

I called the manager over and complained, “Are your staff so incompetent that they can't even get an order right?”

“I apologize, sir. What seems to be the problem?” he asked.

“I ordered a black coffee with no sugar and cream. Why am I drinking sweetened black coffee?”

“I'm sorry, sir. It must have been a mistake. Let me get your order fixed right away,” he turned to leave but I stopped him.

“No, I won't tolerate such a foolish mistake. I will never return here, and I demand that the waitress who served me be fired!” I demanded, handing him my limitless platinum, black card to pay for the coffee I had angrily spilled on the table.

The manager's eyes widened when he saw the black card. Clearly, he hadn't seen one before, as only ten of these cards exist in the country.

“You don't need to pay for the coffee, Sir. Please accept my apologies. I will ensure the waitress is dealt with,” he hurriedly assured me.

I stood up, tossed a few hundred-dollar bills on the table, and left. I could see the disappointment in the manager's eyes losing a potential customer like me, but I didn't care.

Messing up my order was just an excuse for their incompetence.

As I got into my car, my phone started ringing and it was my mother calling. Was she going to nag me again like my father did?